


Payment

by aine_clover



Series: What if? GWTW [6]
Category: Gone With the Wind - All Media Types, Gone With the Wind - Margaret Mitchell
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:08:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23668894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aine_clover/pseuds/aine_clover
Summary: What if Rhett helped Scarlett, and she never had to marry Frank?
Relationships: Rhett Butler/Belle Watling, Rhett Butler/Scarlett O'Hara
Series: What if? GWTW [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1624156
Comments: 7
Kudos: 63





	Payment

After what felt like a lifetime covered in dirt and grime, Scarlett relished the longing and downright sinful looks her velvet green attire awarded her. 

Her beautiful face pointed skyward in appreciation, pointedly ignoring Mammy who traped behind her and glared down every onlooker that Scarlett received. It had taken exactly two bats of her thick eyelashes and a flash of a cat-like smile at the jailor, draped in his Yankee garb before he had been led her straight to Captain Rhett Butler. She had internally gulped, quietly surprised that he looked so handsome. He was smiling warmly at her, his shirt opened, his tanned and toned chest on display. He caught her eyes and smirked, but she had glanced up quickly, her gloved hands in his as he kissed her fingers. She caught the way his dark eyes watched over her and she felt her heart stutter if only for a second, the excitement that such a daring ruse might actually work, the blush capturing her cheeks as she briskly pulled her hands away and told a light-hearted joke. 

He’d asked to kiss her, and she’d teased him still. 

She had kept her demeanour warm and kind, the girlish charm she had provided for him was as fresh from Twelve Oaks as her face still looked. At least she wasn’t wearing her stress, fear and pain on her pale skin. That, at least, was a kindness from an increasingly unkind God. 

It was a perfect plan if not for the damned gloves. She should have never taken them off. She could have cursed herself as she felt the scrape of his hands against her bare skin. She watched the adoration rush from him, cold anger taking his gaze as his fingers crushed hers, prying her unwilling hands apart. 

She stuck to her plan, desperately pleading until the lie had bled out, leaving nothing but a lifeless, shapeless breath that hung between them. 

She had internally winced at the coldness that he bore down on her. She felt a frisson of fear when he rose the idea that she could ‘sell herself to Belle Watling’ with a sneer that made his entire mouth twitch. A fear that he knew her desperation more than she did, that he knew what she was capable of. The war had taught her she was capable of anything and it terrified her. She felt that fear grow inside her, twisting and curling into the hot temper she felt familiar with. A cool comfortable haze overtook her as she met his fury with her own. She saw the sneer merge to a smirk, making her burn only more hateful that she had been tricked into debasing herself. Had she not been through enough? Should she have to play herself to humiliation for Rhett Butler’s twisted amusement? 

He truly was a devil. 

The blood rushed her ears, loathe filling her as she glared up at him. 

“Why Scarlett, those Yankee’s will be over your familiar farm like you were just all over me,” he laughed, lacerating her with the booming laugh that tore out of him. 

She ripped her hands from his grip, her hands shaking by her side with rage. 

“And you can forget about buying the house back,” he said with a fresh, nasty grin. “That Yankee Major told me that the north doesn’t care about cotton. They’re tearing up that useless red dirt.” 

“What do you mean ‘tear up’?” She asked sharply, eyes narrowing.

“I mean from the dirt to the sky, my dear,” Rhett chuckled darkly. “They want gold and land. That’s it. They’ll tear your Tara apart looking for an inch of value in that land. Six feet down, all the way to hell. There will be nothing but a filthy mine by the time they’re done.”

The words sat as though harmless before the sharp stab of reality consumed her. She had a flash of _him_ , the Yankee. His bloody and disfigured body arose in her mind, bile pushing up her throat as she remembered the ungodly sound of soil hitting cold flesh as she buried him into the earth at Tara.

One of their own. That’s what they would see. A man in uniform, buried with his skull blown to bits, on a proud Georgian’s plantation. Her, the only owner alive, the last one to pay the price for such an act of treason against the North. 

“Will you be coming to my hanging?” Rhett chuckled. “I may bequeath you in my will.”

He moved to her, but she stood frozen, her emerald eyes darting from side to side as she considered his statement as though it were a twirling gown, forever spinning about in her mind's eye. She dropped her face to her feet, desperately trying to think of what to do. 

He was talking still but she couldn’t hear him as she desperately tried to drown the horrifying image of them coming for her, dragging her filthy and thin frame from her beloved Tara. From her home. Her folk. Her son. She could almost feel the rope around her neck as her hand rose to her throat. Twisting and cutting and burning. Her breath already trapped in her as she felt herself begin to choke on the thin air- 

“Scarlett, are you listening?”

She blinked at the sound of his raised voice but kept her head down, her lashes fluttering rapidly to keep the fear at bay, trying to drown out the horrifying painting her mind was building without her permission. 

“I can’t lose Tara to the Yankees,” she whispered, shocked that the voice could leave her at all. 

“Well then you better figure out quick smart how to pay those taxes,” he sneered, losing his patience with her and the petty, velvet act she had placed before him. “Now if you don’t mind my dear, I have lots to do before my untimely end and I don’t wish to spend another moment of my life talking about that damn place.”

“Rhett, Rhett you have to figure out how to get me the money,” she choked. Her hand shot out and caught the cuff of his shirtsleeve, her nails scratching his skin as clenched her fist sharply, eyes frantically tracing his face, looking for any shred of mercy for her. 

“To hell with Tara,” he said bitingly, a nasty chuckle reverberating from his chest. “And if you really think me sad enough to give you that three hundred dollars, well, to hell with you too Scarlett.” 

She said nothing as she stared up, face set with a look of horror that unnerved him, despite his jeering. 

She saw the drop of his sneer, if only for a second, at the fear in her eyes. 

She said it without thought. 

“ _I killed a Yankee._ ” 

She stared at him, her terrified eyes scalding as they burned through him, drying his mouth of his laughter.

“What?” He asked, his voice dropping for her only her to hear. He grabbed her wrist and tugged her close. 

“I-”

“Speak softer, Scarlett,” Rhett reprimanded. 

She gulped and nodded, stepping so there were only a few inches between them. 

“I shot him,” she said softly, her voice as quiet as her breath, eyes tracing his face for a reaction. Any minute twitch of disgust. “He came to the house. He was going to… well… _I had to Rhett_. Melly saw. She hid it from everyone else, and I… I had to take him and bury him in a field at Tara….”

There was a sickening silence that hung between them, Rhett’s eyes tracing her endlessly at such a confession.

“Did you leave his uniform on?” He asked quietly, his voice stunningly calm. 

“Yes,” Scarlett whispered, trying to keep her voice as calm as his, but failing miserably to push down the increasing panic clawing at her bones. “Rhett… If they take Tara they’ll find him-”

“You need to dig him up,” Rhett said sharply, his voice low. “Get rid of the uniform. Burn it.”

“I can’t,” she whispered. “Rhett I couldn’t bear it-”

“Could you bear hanging from the end of a rope?” He asked harshly, his voice causing a shiver of terror to run through her. 

She felt the tears burn her eyes, taking a small gulp as she timidly shook her head.

“You will need to dig him up in the dark. No one watching. Melly knows?” He asked, as though sending a soldier to war with orders.

She nodded timidly, looking at him with blind trust.

“Good. She can keep a lookout.”

“Rhett-”

“Burn the coat, anything that would look like he would make him look like a Yankee. Leave just the bones, Scarlett,” Rhett continued. 

“Rhett-”

“And don’t tell anyone else, not a soul, do you understand?”

“Rhett-”

“What Scarlett?” He snapped, his patience fraying.

“Everyone will starve if I hang,” she whispered, a small look of panic reaching her eyes. “Rhett… what if they catch me… and I… I let all my folk down….”

A little sob took her mouth and she pushed her palms to her lips. 

She watched his eyes soften as she battered at her face, sniffling away as she fruitlessly tried to calm herself.

“No one will starve, Scarlett,” he said gently.

“You were right,” she interrupted him, ignoring his words entirely. “I have been tilling the field like a field hand… I’ve been doing that and near everything else Rhett. Father has died, Melly is still too unwell, my sisters are pretty fools, and everyone else is so broken and hungry from this war, why they can’t hold their heads up, let alone feed and protect our family-”

“It’s been hard for you Scarlett,” he tried to interrupt but she shook her head, one of her curls coming loose. 

“It isn’t concerning me,” she said, a tear falling free as it ran down her face, cutting pale lines into her blushed cheeks. Rhett quietly considered he had never seen such perfect tears, looking almost pearl-like as they streaked her face. Falling slowly down her still and beautiful face. “My son will go hungry, we will all go hungry, and it’s all my fault-”

“Scarlett,” he interrupted, a harshness catching his eyes. “You did what you had to do. That’s all that can be said.”

She froze in front of him, a storm of silent tears beginning to rain down her pale face. 

“You’ll think me a coward Rhett,” she whispered, shame and humiliation licking her words. “But… but Rhett… I don’t know if I can survive to dig him up…” 

Rhett watched the genuine pain take her face, knowing in his heart of hearts that she would, of course, do it to protect her folk and herself, but she was right, how well would she survive it? Would it destroy the woman he had come to think about almost religiously? Would there be any Scarlett left from him? 

“Very well Scarlett,” he said softly. 

“So, you will help me?” She whispered, the promise of hope lighting her words. 

He stared at her, sighing softly. She saw the pure look of torn worry.

“Scarlett….” He said softly. “I cannot… I have none of my money….”

She nodded quietly and slowly sunk down to her knees, her hands clasping in front of her. He watched in confusion for a moment, her lips quietly moving against silence as he slowly leant down to listen.

“…hallowed be thy name, thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth, as it is in heaven-”

“Scarlett?” He asked, gingerly touching her chin to draw her eyes. She looked up, looking blinded by panic and she blinked against the fresh tears clouding her green eyes. 

She had no answer, confused by the gentle touch as she looked into his dark eyes. 

“What are you doing, Scarlett?” He asked, his voice soft as though he were speaking to a child. 

“I’m praying,” she said in a brittle whisper, brows furrowing softly. 

“Why, Scarlett?” He asked gently. 

“I swore to God that I would keep my family safe… I swore and I broke my word…” she murmured. “I’m a murderer and a liar, and I’ll be going straight to hell. I’m praying for His mercy, Rhett.” 

Rhett watched her carefully, expecting the sheen of manipulation to cross her features, but nothing but pure fear and contrition brushed upon her usually devilish face. 

“Ah, Captain Butler?” 

Rhett looked over her head to see the nervous Yankee corporal watching. 

“Your… sister… is here.”

He could see the perfectly preened Belle Watling behind the young man, taking in the scene with a curious and keen gaze. 

“Ah, sister!” Rhett said, smiling broadly as he swiftly stepped from Scarlett. Her head dropped as his fingers withdrew, her forehead pressing her clasped hands as she collapsed forward on herself, her body curving inward as she began to quietly pray once more.

“You certainly have a lot of sisters-”

“I do!” Rhett said with a grin, his charming game pressing down the unasked question of why Scarlett now curled against the barn floor. Rhett warmly ushered Belle forward, hand coming to clasp hers as he pulled her close. “And if you could leave me be, it is family business after all. And I am paying a hefty rent on this stable stall!” 

The young man blinked awkwardly and jumped back with a blush when Rhett slammed the door closed. 

“Rhett….?” Belle asked in her characteristic drawl, taking in the unnerving image of the now weeping Scarlett who was softly rocking herself, muttering forward a fresh Catholic plea to an unseeing and uncaring God. 

“My most beloved Belle,” he said, his face suddenly stern. “Scarlett is visiting as she… well, she is in a bit of a dilemma.” 

He glanced back, seeing what Belle was seeing. His stomach sunk at the view, watching the fiery creature he had come to secretly adore dissolve to nothing but terror amongst the straw on the floor. He stepped over gently, leaning down and crowding her space as he pulled her up by the shoulders. 

Her face was damp as she looked up at him unseeing. 

“Scarlett,” he said gently but firmly.

“Yes, Rhett?” She said. Her voice cracked, and he wasn’t sure he had ever heard his name said so sweetly and so softly. 

He took her in. She looked so beautiful and young and delicate and kind and gentle and all the things he had longed to see her express to him. Soft and sweet under his grip. He felt the place where his heart should be briefly flickered warmly. 

He spoke without thought. 

“Belle will give you the money.” 

“She will?” Scarlett whispered, hope flooding her gaze. 

“What money?” Belle asked, her gaze suddenly distrustful. Rhett stood swiftly from Scarlett, his hands moving from her as she twisted around to take in the terrifying businesswoman.

“You will?” Scarlett asked Belle, a small and grateful smile catching her lips.

“What money?” Belle repeated, levelling Rhett with an angry glare. 

“It’s three hundred dollars,” he said swiftly. “I assure you, you’ll get it back from me as soon as I can. Whether that’s by my hand or my will. Hell, I’ll write it out for you today.”

“You must be mad-” Belle began.

Rhett silenced her with a soft hand cupping her face. 

“It would be yours anyway,” he said. “Who else would I leave my worldly goods too?”

Belle blinked, and though she knew Rhett was a cad for tugging at her heartstrings she also knew she would never be able to say no to him. The silence hung between them and he watched the fight drain from her blue gaze.

“Of course,” Belle said, relenting, trying to hold the bitterness from her voice.

The sob that erupted from Scarlett startled Belle and she felt her heart crack in two as Rhett tore himself from her and sunk down to wrap the weeping woman in his grip.

“Thank you,” Scarlett hiccoughed, her lip trembling as she stared up at Belle. Belle watched Rhett’s large arms encase the beautiful, privileged, green-eyed devil and felt sick burn her stomach.

“Thank Rhett,” Belle uttered dismissively, attempting to hold the flimsy, carefree expression to her painted face.

Scarlett’s emerald eyes moved to Rhett, her dishevelled hair making her somehow even more beautiful. 

“You’ve saved my life,” Scarlett whispered, softly blinking as she looked up at him with an adoration Rhett could not have even imagined. “Rhett… I don’t know how I could ever possibly repay you…” 

Rhett had a thousand sinful thoughts flood his dark eyes. Scarlett oblivious to them, Belle flinching as she recognised that animalistic gaze.

“Take care of your family Scarlett,” he said softly, his voice as warm as melted butter and sweeter than honey. “Let me take care of you.” 

She nodded and softly kissed his cheek, causing an uncharacteristic but short-lived flush to catch his face. 

“Well…” Belle interrupted by clearing her throat. “If you don’t mind leaving us be to sort out the details. I’ll drop the money to you myself. Personally.”

Scarlett nodded timidly as Rhett helped her stand. She walked quietly to Belle and dipped her head as thanks. 

“I’ll… I’ll leave you to your sister...” Scarlett said with a small and knowing smile as she glanced back at Rhett. The roguish grin he gave her should have made her skin crawl, but she felt herself shiver instead. 

“Thank you, Miss Watling,” Scarlett said quietly as she left.

Rhett hadn’t raised Scarlett or the money for the rest of their brief encounter, but it didn’t quell the jealousy that ran rabid in Belle Watling’s veins. Belle had the image of her young rival burn her mind's eye, no matter where Rhett placed his hands or his lips on her powdered skin. 

She would never forgive him for it, but she also knew she could never say no to him. 

And she knew that his act of kindness meant the same for the young Miss Scarlett O’Hara. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for the prompt EmmaElizeRose. "Rhett helps Scarlett while he's in jail so she doesn't have to marry Frank?"


End file.
